


Gone but Not Forgotten (The Perfect Phrase)

by fireweed15



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Community: hc_bingo, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 10:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19354759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireweed15/pseuds/fireweed15
Summary: The story of a silver tube and golden band.





	Gone but Not Forgotten (The Perfect Phrase)

**Author's Note:**

> **Recommended Music** : [The Dance — Garth Brooks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpwdwbO1uvM) | [You Should Be Here — Cole Swindell](https://youtu.be/K8WlCqZPTeg)

"Hey, sooooooo…" Magnus looked away from the horizon in time to see Taako wave a hand vaguely in his direction. "What's with the necklace?"

Magnus' hand closed around the necklace—or rather, around the thin silver tube and simple metal band hanging from the leather cord around his neck—the memories inside it making the metal burn his calloused skin. "What do you mean?" he mumbled.

"Not to get too personal or anything," Taako went on, folding his legs to sit cross-legged on the log beside Magnus. "Just wondering, since you never take it off."

What was he supposed to _say_? That—

• • •

Magnus' hands flex around the reins of the horse pulling his cart. In the back was his rocking chair, wrapped and secured and _prize-winning_ , thank you very much, and gods help him, he couldn't _wait_ to tell Jules.

Well… there were a lot of things he couldn't wait for—to see her again, to give her a big hug and a kiss, to give her the chair.

He was a few hours out from Raven's Roost now, and stopped outside a nameless but familiar inn to water his horse. As the horse drank, he took the time to wander, stretching expansively before stopping in front of a signpost at the junction. His eyes roamed over the carved signs pointing down the various paths—Neverwinter, pointing down the path he'd come; Goldcliff, Phandalin, Rock… port… _Waitaminnit._ He rubbed the back of his neck, frowning as he walked a slow circle around the signpost. Where was Raven's Roost?

He got his answer a moment later, when he almost tripped over it. Someone had pulled it from the post and dropped it where they stood. Magnus' face contorted in annoyance before tucking the sign under his arm and fetching a hammer and nail from his supplies and moving to repair it.

He had just finished when, from behind him—"Magnus…?"

He glanced over his shoulder, then turned fully to face the speaker, his expression breaking into a warm, broad smile as he recognized the baker. "Selasi!" He wrapped the man in a rib cracking embrace. "How are you my friend?"

"Fine, just…" Selasi sighed shakily, rubbing the back of his neck. "Magnus, you haven't heard?"

"Noooooooo… Heard what?" Some of the warmth in Magnus' voice crept away, replaced by wariness.

"It's…" Selasi's words failed him for a moment, and he lifted his hands as if in defeat, seemingly searching for the right words. "It's… It's gone, Magnus."

The warmth of the sun felt like it had been pulled off of Magnus' shoulders—hell, even the colors seemed less bright as the news sank in. "… _What_? How can Raven's Roost be _gone_?"

There was no anger in Magnus' voice, but Selasi flinched back from the words as if there was. "The whole thing—The… the whole craftsmen corridor… it's _gone_ , Magnus."

Magnus could feel his knees weakening, his vision starting to swim as the implications started to sink in, but he forced himself to remain upright and focused. Still, when he spoke, his mouth felt like it was lined with cotton. "They're rebuilding it, right?"

Selasi shook his head. "The corridor was a lost cause—and everyone else is leaving." He glanced over his shoulder at his family. "We're one of the last ones out—

"Everyone's _leaving_? Magnus echoed. "Why? What happened?"

The baker's face twisted in pain, and for a moment he didn't speak at all. Finally, he managed, "…Kalen came back. I guess… if he couldn't have Raven's Roost, nobody could."

For a moment, Magnus felt as though the world had been pulled out from underneath him, and that for a few terrifying moments he was hovering in mid air before the fall. His mouth opened and closed several times, and more than once he had to swallow an overwhelming sense of nausea before finally managing, "I… I have to go—" Despite his legs feeling like bags of wet sand, he managed to make it back to the cart and clamber back into the seat. The reins snapped sharply, and he disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust.

Magnus barely noticed the scenery passing by in a blur as he urged the horse and cart on, all the while calling on every deity he could think of that this was all some terrible mistake, some cruel joke—

The cart crested the hill. Normally this was the best part of any journey, when the sight of the rocky tors on which Raven's Roost had been built filled him with peace. Now, the sight of the destruction of the support column of the centermost, tallest tor—the one that had housed the craftsmen corridor, the beating heart of Raven's Roost, and the Hammer and Tongs—filled him with dread.

He tethered the horse to a sturdy tree—and then he saw the postings. Fluttering in the breeze were hastily written signs and letters—pleas, really—for missing family, friends and loved ones to meet the poster at an inn, at a farm, to meet them _anywhere…_

Magnus scanned them all, desperately searching for names he knew. He encountered many, of course—friends, customers, neighbors—and it pained him to think that these postings would never be answered, lost to time and the elements. Or maybe they'd been answered already. Maybe some of them were safe.

Gods, he could only hope for the same for Jules…

Despite the craftsmanship that had held the bridges of Raven's Roost aloft for years, crossing to the residential district felt perilous. Maybe it was the breeze that carried lingering whiffs of smoke and despair, maybe it was the lonely cry of birds and the creak of wood underfoot.

Maybe it was the fact that Magnus' once bustling and vibrant hometown was so… _empty_ now. Doors and windows were boarded up, and no one was out on the streets. Selasi hadn't been kidding when he said that everyone had left…

Magnus' feet carried him without thought to the small house he and Jules called _home_. The door was closed, but freely swung open when he pushed it. He'd been dreaming about this moment for a long time—returning home, greeting Julia with a warm embrace and gentle kiss, telling her _everything_ , presenting her with the chair—

It was quiet in the house… too quiet. The thought came unbidden to Magnus' mind, and he pushed it away, afraid that if he thought it, it would be true— _The house was deathly quiet._

"Jules? Julia?" Nothing but his echo replied, making Magnus' heart twist and ache. Maybe—maybe she had left. Maybe she'd gone somewhere safe after… after—

The thought was comforting, but it was, first and foremost, a bad lie. She wouldn't have disappeared into thin air, Pass Without Trace-style; she would have stayed if not in their home, then on the other side of the bridge, waiting for him to tell him everything, to plan and strategize how to rebuild and better protect Raven's Roost.

No, the silence in the air, creeping into his lungs and threatening to rob him of precious air, told him everything—that she'd been in the craftsmen corridor, no doubt helping her father, when Kalen…

"Oh gods, _Julia_ …" The words were little more than a pained moan as he leaned heavily against the mantle, as if remaining upright on his own was too much for him to bear. His gaze (wavering as tears he couldn't blink away built up) fell on the objects collected on the mantle—specifically, on a portrait. It had been a wedding gift from an artisan whose shop was (or had been) a few doors down from Hammer and Tongs. Magnus and Julia were seated side by side, both dressed in their best; wildflowers crowned Julia's head like a halo. Julia had looked forward, meeting the artisan's gaze with confident ease; his was only and always on her.

His hands shook as he lifted the framed piece from the mantle, and again as he carefully extracted the illustration from the frame. Everything was gone—his home, his work, his _wife_ , his hopes of a family… and yet this simple illustration…

• • •

Magnus' hand curled around the tube, almost protective. What was he supposed to _say_? That he couldn't bear to part with a wedding band without its mate? That the tube contained the only thing that kept the memory of her from fading away? That these were the only surviving reminders of the life he once had, of the woman he still loved so much just thinking her name hurt? And if he did say something, could he find a way to express that, the gravitas of it all?

"I… Nothing personal, Taako, but… I don't think I'm ready to tell you that."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Grief for Round X of the Hurt / Comfort Bingo on Dreamwidth  
> Shout out to Travis McElroy for _wrecking my fucking heart_ while I drove from Portland to Newport because _I did not sign on to have Magnus' backstory blindside me like that_


End file.
